


The Blush In Your Cheeks Says That You Bleed Like Me

by Wolfloner



Series: Kinktober 2020 [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, BDSM Scene, Bloodplay, Dom Wade Wilson, Established Relationship, Kink Negotiation, Kinktober 2020, Knifeplay, M/M, Ongoing Affirmative Consent, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Sub Peter Parker, hints of Dark!Wade but he's got a handle on it, mostly - Freeform, smattering of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26738347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfloner/pseuds/Wolfloner
Summary: Kinktober 2020; Day 1: KnifeplayWade still couldn't believe this was really going to happen. When he’d tentatively suggested the idea to Peter, no part of him had actually expected Peter to say yes. Much less the manic enthusiasm that had forced him to take charge and reign in Peter’s excitement.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Kinktober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946140
Comments: 11
Kudos: 188
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	The Blush In Your Cheeks Says That You Bleed Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> TRYING THIS AGAIN!  
> Kinktober, woooo!  
> There is no part of me at all that actually thinks I might get this finished _in_ October, but maybe, like... In 2020? (Or at least before Kinktober 2021, rofl.)
> 
> Anyway, super hype to share this with all you lovely people. 💞
> 
> (yeah, yeah, I know it's not October for another 6 hours for me. Don't @ me about it.)
> 
> Title from Halsey's "Clementine".

Wade still couldn't believe this was really going to happen. When he’d tentatively suggested the idea to Peter, no part of him had _actually_ expected Peter to say yes. Much less the manic enthusiasm that had forced him to take charge and reign in Peter’s excitement.

Although, given that the whole BDSM part of their relationship had started with Peter asking Wade to stick needles through him, maybe this wasn’t as big of a jump as he’d expected.

“So, this is gonna hurt, right?” Peter was fidgeting with a web-shooter, and Wade was 95% sure that it was only a matter of time before he started shooting things with it—a mess that Peter could clean up later.

He was also making it hard for Wade to focus on sharpening the knife he was going to use to cut his boyfriend open. (Just a little. [And he knew he’d have to withhold this game until Peter had calmed down enough for them to discuss things like _boundaries.]_ )

“I imagine so, yeah,” he offered. “Always hurts when I get knifed, at least.” The web-shooter finally went off, and when Wade chanced to look up, he saw Peter hanging by a thread in the middle of their living room. “Are you okay?”

“Yep! Nervous. Excited. You know what you’re doing, right?”

“I know what I’m doing,” he assured. He didn’t feel the need to explain exactly how well he knew what he was doing. The fewer details Peter had on his training, the happier they both were.

“So,” Peter slowly turned away from him, the thread unwinding, “you know how to _make sure_ it hurts.”

“I do.”

“And sharpening that knife won’t make it like, too easy to cut too deeply?”

“Sharpening the knife makes it very easy to control exactly how deep I’m cutting.”

“Right, right. That makes sense.” His spider dropped from the web, leaving it to sway as their heating kicked on.

“You sure you want to do this—”

“I do!” Peter paced back and forth, unable to keep still. “That’s actually the issue. Like. Do I want it too much? Am I freaking you out?”

“You’re starting to worry me.” He tested the blade, and he found that he barely had to touch the edge with his fingertip to split his skin. Before any blood had a chance to ooze free, his body was already rapidly healing itself, knitting the small cut until, seconds later, it looked like nothing had ever happened.

“Sorry, I’ve got like, a billion thoughts, and I’m excited, and I’ve been like half-hard since you mentioned this _yesterday.”_

Wade wasn’t sure if Peter was exaggerating or not. “You know we still have to talk about this, right? That we’re not just gonna jump into me sticking a knife in you?”

“I know. So, why aren’t we doing that right now?”

“Because you’re too busy thinking with your lower brain.”

Peter finally stopped moving, just to scowl dramatically at him. 

* * *

That night, after an incredibly exciting bout of patrolling—so many petty thieves in one night! They’d even had to split up to cover more ground. Deadpool had broken _at least_ nine fingers. Almost a whole set—Peter was a lot calmer.

Still, after they’d cleaned up and burrowed under the covers, it was apparent that his mind hadn’t stopped racing. (Wade wasn’t sure it ever really did, to be fair.)

“Can we talk about it now?” Peter asked. “After all that, I don’t think I’ll be thinking with my dick for at least a day or two.”

Wade giggled. It wasn’t funny, not really, but the sheer absurdity that a man’s wild swinging had led him to hit Spider-Man in the nuts with a baseball bat… Well, no. It was hilarious. He could _feel_ Peter glaring at him in the dark.

“It wasn’t funny.”

“It was super funny,” Wade replied. “I mean, I know it hurt like a motherfucker, but his _face._ ”

Peter smacked him in the arm, hardly bothering to check his strength. That _also_ hurt like a motherfucker, but Wade kind of deserved it.

“Do you want an icepack or something?”

“I’m comfy,” Peter huffed.

“I’ll go get it for you?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Peter snuggled closer to him. “Thanks for kicking his ass.”

“Of course, Baby Boy,” Wade turned enough to wrap an arm around his Spidey. “No one gets to hurt you but me.”

“So… Knives?” Trust this to be the thing that Peter started hyper-focusing on.

“Yeah, yeah.” He took a deep breath and ordered his thoughts. “Okay. First, do you _want_ me to hurt you?”

“Yes,” Peter answered immediately.

“Do you want to bleed?”

Peter was quiet for a few moments. “Can you make it hurt without making me bleed?”

“Absolutely.”

“Do _you_ want me to bleed?”

Wade licked his lips, hyperaware that Peter could see him, even if he couldn’t see Peter. The honest answer was that, yes, yes he did. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is what you want out of it.”

Quiet fell over them again, and Wade had to assume that Peter was thinking over the question. “Yes, I think so.”

“I think so isn’t gonna cut it, kiddo. Walk me through what you’re thinking.”

He was only a little bit surprised that Peter did as he asked, “I’m thinking that… I like the idea. I like knowing you wouldn’t be doing anything by accident, and that if it hurts, or if I’m bleeding, it’s because you _chose_ for that to happen.

“And, you know, when we did the piercing stuff, I bled a bit then. And liked it. A lot. I mean, my brain was doing like 15 different things, and I was having trouble with how much I liked it, but I still _did._

“But at the same time, saying, “Yes, I want you to cut into me deep enough to draw blood,” is… Well. It’s kind of… intense.”

“You don’t need to make a decision right away,” Wade soothed. “But it’s a decision you _need_ to make before we can play with knives, alright?”

“Alright,” Peter agreed readily.

“Good boy,” he praised. “Now. Can you think of anywhere you _don’t_ want a knife near? Obviously, I won’t go anywhere close to any danger zones—your throat, your wrists, your femoral artery—”

Peter clung to him and shuddered.

“Petey?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m. Um.” Peter tucked his face against Wade’s shoulder. “Intrusive thought, that’s all. It’s just… I just realized you know all the places _not_ to go near because…”

Because Wade knew how to kill people. How to do it quick and clean and (nearly) painless. And how to draw it out, make them suffer, make it _last._

“Too much?” Wade asked cautiously.

Peter chuckled softly. “It probably should be,” he admitted. “But you’d be using what you know to, like, avoid injuring me, so it’s like it loops around, and instead... it’s _super hot_.”

Wade had to remind himself that they weren’t supposed to be thinking with their dicks right then. But Peter had just called his unaliving skills hot, so it wasn’t entirely his fault.

Spidey took a deep breath. “Okay, your question. Um. My face? Oh, well, you probably wouldn’t go near my face anyway, would you? Feet? I think it’d just be weird and take me out of the moment too much? I can’t think of anything else that isn’t already just, like, super dangerous.”

“Alright, you’re doing a great job, Petey,” Wade said. “In the morning, I’ll show you the specific places I won’t go near, and you can tell me if you can think of anywhere else you want me to avoid.”

“Can we use my safeword?”

“You can always use your safeword.”

“No, I mean...”

“Oh,” Wade bit his lip, trying to imagine it. Holding a knife to Peter’s skin, and hearing his Baby Boy say “No” or “Stop” and then _not_ stopping. It made his stomach twist unpleasantly. “No,” he said gently. “If you say stop, or anything similar, I’m gonna stop. For this, I don’t think _I_ could handle continuing, even if I know you don’t really mean it.”

“Oh, okay. That makes sense.” Peter was doing his best not to sound disappointed. Wade was fine with disappointing him in this, though.

* * *

The next day, after Wade had pulled up a diagram and shown Peter all the places he would Absolutely Never Cut, (and then gave a physical demonstration as well, just because he liked feeling Peter’s pulse jump beneath his fingers), Peter decided that, yes, he wanted to bleed. 

They were in the middle of a very intense makeout session when Peter jumped up, yelped about losing track of time, and that he had class, grabbed his bag, and scampered out of their apartment.

Well, that was fine. Not that Peter might wind up late, but that now he had time to get things ready.

Like purchasing an oversized white towel and a few more things to add to their first aid kit. He pondered grabbing some candles for mood lighting, but while the image was nice—candlelight glinting off a bloody knife? Yes, please!—the need to really _see_ what he was doing won out. Yellow’s reminders that he could—and had—killed people in pitch black rooms didn’t sway him.

Unless they found another radioactive spider to bite Wade and give _him_ freakishly good night vision, the lights had to stay on.

He also made dinner. And if he chose to make something to show off his knife skills—a cobb salad with grilled chicken—well,

“Is this flirting?” Peter asked as he admired the plate Wade set before him. “Are you using chopped vegetables to flirt with me?”

“Is it working?”

“Kind of, yeah. It’s weird but like, exactly our brand of weird.”

Wade flashed a grin.

Dinner was surprisingly typical, which was nice. He knew Peter was as keyed up to play as he was, but they talked easily about their days and embraced the chance to enjoy the domestic intimacy of cleaning up the kitchen together once they were finished.

“This isn’t one of your towels, is it?” Peter asked before running his hand over the large towel that Wade had carefully spread over Peter’s side of the bed. “Oh, no, it’s not.”

“Nope. It’s new, though. Ran it with some laundry.”

“Oh, thanks.”

They stood there silently for a long moment.

“I should probably get undressed, huh?”

“It’d help. Unless you don’t want to do this.”

“No, I do!” Peter didn’t sound like he was trying to convince either of them. “I’m nervous, but, you know. Hype. This’ll be fun.”

“That’s the goal.” From there, Wade helped undress Peter. Partially because he enjoyed doing so, like unwrapping a present, but also because Peter’s fingers were shaking and he looked willing to tear the clothing apart rather than fight with the buttons. And, as boner-inducing as that would have been, given that Peter rarely let Wade buy him anything, that meant he needed to help protect the poor unsuspecting shirt. 

“I don’t suppose you’ll wrestle me down for this?” Peter asked once he was naked.

Wade shook his head. “Sure won’t.” He _needed_ Peter to do this willingly, every step of the way. Not because he didn’t find the idea of holding Peter down and cutting into him enticing, but because he _did._ It was the same part that thrilled at the thought of hearing Peter beg for him to stop, only for Wade to dig the knife in a little bit deeper, just to make the boy _sob_. That part of him wasn’t allowed anywhere near Peter. Not even Spider-Man had witnessed just how _much_ Wade could enjoy hurting someone, and he wasn’t going to let that change anytime soon.

With an overly dramatic stretch—Wade was pretty sure Peter was just using the chance to show off his lean muscles and tight ass—Peter popped his neck and several other joints. Then, careful not to mess up the towel, settled on the bed with a bright smile. “You gonna get undressed?”

“Do you want me to?” Wade scratched his fingernails down Peter’s chest.

Peter hummed, “Yeah. Please.”

Wade wasn’t hurried or overeager while he undressed, but he didn’t make a show of it either. It didn’t seem to matter; Peter always liked seeing Wade strip off his clothes. He liked the vulnerability that Wade offered him. And given that Peter was offering up at least ten times as much, Wade was happy to share.

“I meant what I said,” Wade reminded him as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “If you say stop, we’ll stop.”

“Got it,” Peter nodded.

When Wade held up the knife—the one he’d been sharpening the day before, that he’d let Peter hold that morning—he watched Peter’s trusting, brown eyes go wide. He touched the flat edge to his chest, just to hear him suck in a sharp breath.

Once he realized that nothing had actually happened, Peter let out a relieved chuckle and relaxed. “Asshole.”

“Oh, just you wait,” he mused.

Wade continued like that for a bit. He ran the dull edge of the blade smoothly over Peter’s chest and the outside of his arms. Until Peter started to get used to it. To the rhythm, and the sensation, and the idea of _Wade_ holding a deadly weapon against his skin.

“Wade,” Peter’s breath was barely a whisper, and Wade didn’t stop the pattern he was drawing in invisible lines along Peter’s side.

“Yes, dear?”

“Aren’t you gonna…?”

“Hmm? Gonna what?” He smiled down at the way Peter’s brows were pinching together. “Do you want it to hurt, Petey? Do you want to bleed?”

“Yes,” Peter hissed, clenching his fists into the towel.

“Ask for it,” Wade ordered.

His spider’s eyes were still wide and trusting, but there was a touch of fear there now, too. Not much, but since Wade knew what to look for, it might as well have been a brightly lit billboard for how easily he could read it.

“Good boys ask for what they want,” Wade prompted when Peter didn’t speak.

Peter closed his eyes and swallowed. Wade could be patient. He knew what the issue was, of course. Peter liked it when Wade _did things_ to him. When he could pretend he didn’t have as much of a choice. And _letting_ Wade cut him and hurt him wasn’t the same as _asking_ him to do it.

Finally, “I want,” came Peter’s shaky start. “I want you to hurt me.”

“Very good, Sweetheart. Anything else?”

He whimpered, but when Peter opened his eyes, there was lust warring with his fear. “I want to bleed,” he breathed. “For you.”

Oh, that was a nice touch. A very, _very,_ nice touch.

The first cut across Peter’s pec was quick but shallow. Peter’s answering grunt was from surprise, not pain.

And Wade registered it because of course he did. He was using every iota of training that he could recall to collect and categorize all of Peter’s reactions. But he still allowed himself a second to be mesmerized by the split skin and the droplets of blood that beaded at the surface.

He made a second cut, right under the first, and watched Peter’s face as he worked to process what Wade was doing to him. 

“I thought it would hurt more,” Peter admitted after the third line.

“Be good and ask for it nicely, and maybe I’ll give you a couple that’ll _really_ hurt,” Wade offered.

“I’d like that.”

Using the dull tip of the blade, Wade scratched out a few pink lines on the other side of his chest, and Peter gasped, looking confused. 

Wade didn’t offer any sort of explanation, either. Instead, he shifted so that he could pull Peter’s forearm over his leg. It was safer, along the outer side of Peter’s arm, to let the knife slice deeper. 

“Fuck!” Peter tensed, his breath coming harsher. Wade waited for a beat to see if Peter would react negatively. Then, when he didn’t, he made another cut, just as deep, just as long, right next to the first.

The fourth cut made Peter whine. Wade paused and admired the dazed expression he’d brought out in his boyfriend. He was undeniably aroused, Wade didn’t even have to look between his legs to know it, but he also looked a bit confused. 

“How you doin’, Baby Boy?”

“Hurts,” Peter offered.

“Yeah,” Wade ran his thumb along one of the cuts and watched Peter wince. “I’m going to move to your leg next. Is that alright?”

Peter frowned at being made to give constant permission but nodded. “A-alright.”

The next part required a bit more maneuvering, and Wade found it easier to just crawl onto the center of the bed and turn Peter’s leg towards him.

“W-Wait!” Peter pled frantically, but he didn’t try to pull away. “You-you said it was dangerous to cut me there.”

“I won’t be anywhere near the femoral artery,” Wade assured him, tracing the artery with his finger. “I’m gonna be over here,” he laid his hand over the front of Peter’s leg. “With your permission, of course.”

Peter was still panting fearfully, and Wade could feel his pulse hammering away under his hand. “Oh-okay. Y-yeah, that’s fine.”

“Peter, I want you to look at me.” The request was superfluous, given that Peter had never looked away from what Wade was doing. “Thank you for stopping me when you had concerns. I’m very proud of you.” Just to drive the point home, he gave Peter’s semi a couple of loving strokes, making Peter arch up to meet him.

“After this, I’m going to give you a choice,” Wade told him as he rubbed Peter’s belly, encouraging him to settle back down. “We can be done, and you can come if you’d like.”

His boy snorted, likely at the suggestion that he might not want to come.

“Or,” he continued. “I’ll cut you two more times, along the back of your thigh. And it’ll _hurt.”_ Peter’s dick jerked. “You can come in that scenario, too, if you want.”

“Um,” Peter’s eyes darted from Wade’s face to the knife in his hand, and back. His grip on the towel under him tightened, and the movement made a few more drops of blood flow sluggishly from his arm.

“You don’t have to decide quite yet, Sweetie. You have a few minutes.”

Wade didn’t cut any deeper here than he had Peter’s arm, but the _potential_ threat, the knowledge that he was so close to important veins and arteries, so close to Peter’s dick, had to be wreaking havoc on the guy’s nerves. 

“Oh God, oh fuck,” Peter chanted in between whimpers and whines, and what Wade was 95% sure was a prayer of some sort—he couldn’t be 100% sure since it wasn’t in _English_.

He listened and absorbed and let himself _delight_ in Peter’s reactions. The way he was trying _so hard_ to be still, to just _take_ each line of pain that Wade dug into his leg. Peter’s pain was a gift, and it was beautiful, and it was _his._

By the time he declared himself finished, Peter was staring up at the ceiling, panting hard, and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 

Wade wanted to hear him scream.

“Okay, Petey-pie. What happens next is up to you.”

Peter whimpered and shivered, blinking at him. “I, I…” Fear and pain and lust were all playing out on Peter’s face, and Wade was curious to see which would win out. “I… It hurts,” he choked out.

“I know, Honey,” Wade soothed. “You asked me to hurt you.”

“I-I know,” Peter’s eyes were watering, but he wasn’t crying. Yet. “And I… I want more. I-I want what you o-offered. The second one. But I’m scared.” That’s when Wade recognized the _other_ feeling that was trying to overwhelm his Baby Boy. Shame.

He had no idea if he should lean into that, or not. Peter had a _lot_ of pride. It was one of Wade’s favorite things about him. And while plenty of prideful people _enjoyed_ a bit of fun shame, they hadn’t ever talked about it. It had never even occurred to Wade. Best not to poke it, then.

“Fun scared, or scared-scared, Baby?”

“B-both,” Peter admitted.

Well, that was interesting. So interesting, in fact, that he went from semi to full-chub, just from processing that. “What’s scaring you? Are you afraid I’ll go too far?”

Peter shook his head. “I trust you.”

“Afraid _you’ll_ like it too much?”

That got Peter to smile a little as he shook his head again. “It’s just… scary.”

Wade hummed. “Just a big scary thing that you can’t put your finger on?”

Peter nodded, “Yeah.”

He’d kind of been hoping that he’d be able to help Peter work through whatever was scaring him. Or at least help lead him to a yes or no. 

“We don’t have to do anything else, Petey. We can stop right now. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

But Peter was shaking his head before he finished. “I _want_ to, though.” Ah, there was that patented Peter Parker pride. “Just… One more, maybe? Not two?”

“That wasn’t on offer,” he pointed out, unable to resist the spark of panic in Peter’s eyes. “But you’ve been such a good boy for me, I’m willing to compromise.”

Peter deflated. “Thank you, Sir.”

Wade smiled. He liked Peter calling him, “Sir,” more than he’d have ever expected. Pretending, just for a moment, that he was Peter’s better. They both knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Roll over for me, Sweetheart.”

Peter hissed as the movement tugged at his cuts, but he did as he was asked. Then swore and whined anew when the fresh cuts came into contact with the towel. 

With his fingernail, Wade traced along the back of Peter’s thigh, right where he was planning to cut. “It’s gonna be right there, Honey, alright? And I’ll go as quick as I can, but I don’t want to risk injuring you. You understand, don’t you?”

The broken sound that came from the man under him gave Wade pause. But Peter hadn’t asked him to stop. Hadn’t said no. Hadn’t used his safeword.

“Do you understand?” He repeated, a command now.

“Yes!”

Peter cried out less than halfway through the cut, but he held his leg still, even as the rest of him jerked and shook. Wade made himself focus on what he was immediately _doing._ He could enjoy all the rest in a few seconds. 

Once the cut was done, he even managed to control himself enough to set the knife down gently on the other side of the bed. It needed to be cleaned—there was so much blood—but that could wait a few minutes.

“All done, Baby Boy,” Wade praised, “all done. You did so well, you’re so amazing.” 

His spidey had no qualms with letting Wade gather him in his arms and hold him close while he shook.

“Thank you,” Peter whispered into his neck. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you,_ ” Wade replied. “And you’re welcome. Such a good boy, I’m so proud of you. I know it hurt, but you took it so well. So perfect. Fuck, you’re beautiful when you’re in pain.” 

Peter tensed, and Wade mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“You’re beautiful when you’re hurting me,” Peter mumbled, relaxing into Wade’s hold.

Wade’s heart skipped a beat. “I am?”

He nodded but didn’t offer anything else. Wade thought he might ask the next day.

“Do you wanna come, Petey?”

It took a moment, but Peter gave another nod. Still, he didn’t help much when Wade stretched down to reach his dick. 

For an instant, Wade imagined what it would look like if he gathered some of Peter’s blood on his hands and used that to slick his way as he stroked him to orgasm. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t practical right then.

Besides, he had Peter panting and squirming against him, each shift of his leg causing another burst of pain, but it wasn’t stopping his drive to come. He knew when Peter was getting close by the way he started mouthing and biting at Wade’s neck and shoulder, desperate to hold on to something, anything. 

“That’s it, Baby, just let go. I’ve got you.”

Peter bit down _hard,_ whining into Wade’s skin when he came. Shit, he could hear the pain in it, and whatever Wade was feeling right then—he didn’t have a name for it—was better than any orgasm had ever been.

When it was over, Peter went limp. Wade wasn’t totally sure if he’d passed out, or just fallen asleep. Either way, neither of them cared that only _most_ of the mess had stayed on the towel. They’d probably care the next day, though.

But right then, all Wade gave a damn about was letting his sweet little spider rest. And then later, they’d have a bath. Sans bubbles, this time. That wouldn’t be a fun kind of ouch. Then probably some first aid, which Peter would argue as unnecessary, but he’d still let Wade apply the antibacterial gel and the bandages. Tomorrow, they’d talk about it. Everything they did and felt, and what parts, if any, they wanted to repeat.

That was all _later,_ though. Right then, nothing was more important than the soft, tired breathing of his Baby Boy, and the overwhelming _contentment_ that had settled deep in Wade’s bones.

**Author's Note:**

> Next up: Symbrock and Sounding. :3
> 
> * * *
> 
> Tumblr: [@Wolfloner-Official](https://wolfloner-official.tumblr.com/)  
> [Wolf And Sky's Fever Dreams (Discord server)](https://discord.gg/w5AqUAn)  
> HMU if you wanna chat or w/e. :)


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